Tuesday or: That's just how Riggs rolls
by Aurora Ilvento
Summary: Riggs gets abducted by a gang of skinheads who try to use him as leverage to force LAPD to release their captured leader. The thing is – they might have bit off more than they can chew.
1. Chapter 1

_There are five guys, all armed, which is by no means a fair fight - for them. Every muscle tense, veins coursing with adrenaline, he laughs wildly as he waits for them to attack. "Bring it on, motherfuckers!" But they only surround him in a loose circle, backing up whenever he gets too close. He wonders what they are waiting for. That, apparently: A sixth man appears, pointing an oddly shaped gun at him. As it fires, he lunges to the right, but he's too slow. He feels a sharp pain in his side, but it's not like the pain from a bullet wound. He knows - he's had a lot of those. He touches his chest and finds a tranq dart imbedded there._ That explains it _. Then his legs go weak and his vision darkens. That's when the five thugs finally close in on him. He kicks and punches and even bites - from their pained screams he gets a couple of good shots in, but it isn't enough. As consciousness fades, he feels himself being carried, then dumped on a hard surface. And then nothing._

When Riggs didn't show up for their family dinner Murtaugh had a bad feeling that only intensifies when his partner isn't at work either the next morning. He looks over the bullpen. There are the usual suspects - the morning crew, as well as Bailey, who is pristine as always, but not looking completely awake yet. As he sits at his desk filling out overdue paperwork Roger tries to reassure himself - Riggs is, after all, often late for work. And the last time he missed dinner with them he had been perfectly alright too - well mostly. He _had_ sported a rather nasty black eye after doing whatever he did instead of eating with the Murtaughs. And the slightly awkward way he held himself - like he was hurting, but trying not to show it -suggested there were more bruises hidden under his shirt… Murtaugh gives up his inner pep talk - it isn't really helping - and pulls out his phone. When he punches in Riggs' number, it goes straight to voicemail. _Figures_.  
"Hey Bailey, have you seen Riggs today?"  
She blinks at him and yawns. "No." Cruz arrives at the bullpen carrying two cups of coffee. He hands one to Bailey who gulps it down gratefully. More awake now, she looks sharply at Murtaugh. "Something the matter? You seem worried."  
Unsure how to explain it, he shrugs. "Nah, just this feeling I've been having - like something's not right." Before he can elaborate, a rather serious looking Avery appears and motions to them.  
"Murtaugh, Bailey, Cruz, to my office now. And please send someone to get Dr. Cahill, too." Roger and Bailey share a look - they had both noticed that their captain hasn't asked about Riggs' whereabouts. _This can't be good_.

So it was with trepidation that Roger enters Avery's office. "So what's up, cap?" He nods to the big screen behind Avery's desk, which shows a freeze frame from a video. There is not much to see, as the camera is currently pointing at the floor. "Got something to show us? This better not be a sex tape of you and your lover." His attempt at lightening the sober atmosphere is clearly not appreciated - Avery only grimaces and says curtly: "It isn't. But please wait until the Doc gets here. We will need all our skills to resolve this situation." After a couple of uncomfortable minutes of staring at each other or at the screen with its unhelpful freeze frame, Maureen arrives.  
Avery nods to her and begins: "This video was sent to us by the Master Race Brotherhood, a gang of skinheads relatively new to L.A. As you probably heard, we arrested their leader, Branston Cole, about a week ago. This is their response." Avery pushes a button and the video starts. The camera pans up and everyone gasps at the sight they are presented with.

The first thing they see is a man sitting slumped over in a chair, with his hands cuffed to the arms of the chair. Though his face is obscured by his curly hair, it's clear that they are looking at Riggs. He is completely motionless and his clothes are lightly splattered with blood. Though there aren't any obvious wounds on him, the sight makes Roger's stomach turn. A quick glance to the others shows that they aren't unaffected either. Movement on the screen makes him turn his attention back to it. A man steps into view.  
"We are the Master Race Brotherhood. You have captured Master Cole without reason. We demand that you release him-" Grabbing a handful of curly hair, the speaker - who Murtaugh has silently dubbed Knife Guy due to the huge blade he's waving around - lifts Riggs head up. "Or your detective will die."  
Knife Guy opens his mouth to continue, but a chuckling sound coming from the seemingly unconscious man makes him fall silent. Perplexed, he lets go of his captive's hair. Riggs looks up at them. "Man, are you serious? You sound fucking ridiculous! 'We demand' - did you rehearse this?"  
Recovering from the shock of having his hostage criticize him, the gangster backhands him across the face. "Shut the fuck up!"  
Riggs keeps laughing, even as blood from his split lip runs down his chin. "On the other hand, love what you've done with the place." He pretends to look around. "Real nice here. You were going for the full 'abandoned warehouse' look, weren't you?" This time, Knife Guy turns around and stabs his knife in Riggs' upper arm, who flinches but prattles on. "But what's with the smell? Kind of fishy, don't you think? You'll need one of those air-refresher thingies, those whatchacallits-"  
Fed up, Knife Guy motions to Rifle Guy, who in turn smacks their captive in the face with his weapon. The resulting thud makes Roger wince. He usually admires his partner's indomitable nature and enjoys it when they banter to annoy criminals, but right now he wishes that Riggs would stop giving them any more reasons to hurt him. But the former SEAL - never one to back down - keeps going, despite the blood now coursing down his face from a cut over his eye. "Ow. Hey, there's no need to be rude, I'm just complimenting you on your choice of hideout." Then, noticing the gun he's just been hit with, he adds with apparently genuine enthusiasm: "Hey, nice rifle! Is it a Atlanta Gunworks Model 9? The one with a folding stock and optional scope? I always wanted to have one of those, they're really practical. You can use it for close combat, but with some modifications it makes a pretty decent sniper rifle, too. You need to be careful, though, because they tend to jam when they're not properly taken care of. You do dissemble it on a regular basis and clean every component with WD-40?" Riggs squints critically at Rifle Guy. Perplexed and obviously uncomfortable with such close scrutiny, the gangster mumbles "No, not really." "Ah, then it's probably useless by now. That's a real shame. But there's a way to check it. Do you want me to-?" He jerks his chin at the weapon. Rifle Guy nods hesitantly. "Uh, sure." "But you need to get closer, 'cause I've got blood in my eye, makes it kinda hard to see." The guy complies and takes a couple of steps in Riggs' direction, who bends forward as much as his bindings allow to inspect the weapon.

Incredulous, Bailey turns to Murtaugh. "Is he seriously giving them tips on proper gun handling?" He shrugs helplessly. "Riggs really loves his guns." But the real reason becomes clear as Rifle Guy is now close enough for Riggs to kick him first in the knee - everyone flinches at the resounding _crunch_ \- and then in the head when he goes down, the gun clattering as it hits the ground. The pained shouting of course snaps Knife Guy out of the daze he seems to be stuck in - because this clearly goes different as planned - and brings the other gang members running. In the now resulting scuffle the camera falls to the floor and the screen goes black.


	2. Chapter 2

The room is quiet for a full minute before Cruz whistles softly in admiration. "That guy is _crazy_."  
Bailey shakes her head, looking awed despite herself "They clearly didn't expect to snatch up someone like him." Murtaugh absurdly enough feels like clapping. Though he doesn't approve of his partners self-destructive methods, the results are undeniable. He looks at the others with emphatically raised eyebrows. "You see what he did? He was giving us clues!"  
Frowning, Maureen adds: "At a great cost to himself."  
Avery nods. "We all know Riggs isn't one for the diplomatic approach. Since they haven't gotten the chance to set an ultimatum or tell us how to contact them, they will probably contact us again." _If Riggs is still alive by then_ is what he doesn't say, but what everyone thinks. "Until then we will approach this from different angles." He looks expectantly at the others. Cruz states that he will ask his informants and leaves the room. Bailey goes to her computer to check if she can trace the video to its source.  
Avery turns to the psychologist: "I need your expertise here, as we don't know much about this gang. We arrested Cole merely for drug trafficking and robbery. Do you think they are capable of going through with their threat? Because our course of action depends on whether they are serious or not."  
Maureen looks grimly thoughtful. "The displaying of weapons suggests a certain aggressiveness. And they are clearly not averse to violence. But murdering a cop, that's another matter entirely. They have to know there will be severe repercussions for them. I'll need to rewatch the video and look for further clues."  
Not wanting to see his friend getting hurt again, Murtaugh excuses himself, muttering about looking for potential clues at Riggs' place. Maureen and Avery watch him go with identical expressions of sympathy, then turn to the screen.

Murtaugh drives over to the cove. The trailer door is unlocked as always. He opens it, half expecting to find Riggs there, maybe sprawled out on the sofa sleeping off his buzz or cleaning his weapons. He looks around - the place is the usual mess, but nothing seems out of the ordinary. Turning to go back out, he notices a picture of Miranda, positioned in a way to be the last thing one sees when leaving the trailer. It makes him feel both sad and angry - sad for all the younger man has lost and angry at the universe for taking away his family. _I'll bring him back_ , he silently promises her, though he isn't sure what good it does to promise something to a dead woman. Outside, he blinks at the midday sun and looks around. Some distance from the trailer he notices a spot where the sand seems disturbed. Getting closer, he sees there are also dark stains which could be dried blood and a small object glinting in the sun. Careful not to destroy any potential evidence, Murtaugh backs up and pulls out his phone to call forensics. Just as he is about to dial, it rings. It's Trish.  
"Hey honey, I've just finished up with a client and I'm about a block away from the police station. How about we have lunch together?"  
"Not a good time, baby. I'm at Riggs' place."  
"No problem, you know he's always welcome."  
He winces at the misunderstanding. "No, I mean I'm here because there's been a crime. Riggs has been abducted."  
"What? Why?" The worry is evident in her voice. It's one of the things Murtaugh loves about his wife - how she seems to have infinite capacity for love in her heart and has by now more or less adopted Riggs.  
"Some gang wants to use him as leverage. Listen, I gotta call forensics. I'll talk to you later"  
"Okay, baby. But you will bring him back, won't you?"  
"I intend to."  
"Good. Keep me updated."  
"I will. Bye, honey."

After waiting for the forensics team for what seems like an eternity, Murtaugh heads back and regroups with the others in Avery's office. It's already heading toward evening. He tries not to think about how long it's been since Riggs is in the Master Race's not so gentle care and what they might have been doing to him in the meantime. Or if he's even still alive. He turns his attention back to the room, as everyone starts to present their findings. Cruz got three possible locations of 'Master Race' hideouts from his CIs. Bailey couldn't find the source, but analyzed the video. She describes her findings to the others:  
"I isolated the sound on the video. It's very faint, but this sounds like a ship horn. This supports Riggs' observations that they are on the waterfront somewhere and narrows it down to three locations."  
Avery nods to them. "Good work, you two. Murtaugh, what about you?"  
Roger clears his throat. "I was over at Riggs' place and I found a spot where a fight has taken place. There were blood stains and what appears to be a tranq dart. Scorsese said a full DNA analysis will take a couple of hours, but the blood on the dart matches Riggs' blood group. So this is probably how they got him."  
Maureen then explains that while the man standing to the side looks uncomfortable, the speaker is clearly a fanatic and very probably willing to kill a human being if it furthers their cause. While they debate their next steps, Bailey, who is still tapping away on her computer, looks up. "They have sent another video."

This time the video shows a conscious but much bloodier Riggs. His left sleeve is completely red and he's got a new bruise on his cheek. Murtaugh notices that they have also tied his legs to the legs of the chair, probably as a precaution. Rifle Guy is conspicuously absent, but Knife Guy is back, sporting a broken nose and looking pissed. He's holding his knife to Riggs' throat, the blade already biting into the skin. "Do as we fucking say or I cut his fucking throat out! Release Master Cole! You have one hour." The video ends.  
Murtaugh turns helplessly to the Captain "What are we going to do? They haven't even told us where to make the exchange."  
"It doesn't matter. We have three possible locations. I have already posted SWAT at each one of these. Murtaugh, you will join team Alpha in Santa Monica, Bailey - team Beta in Venice and Cruz, you take Gamma. Doc, we will need you if it comes to negotiations. Since we don't know where they are actually holding our man, you can pick one."  
Murtaugh is thoughtfully rubbing his chin. "Hey Cap, mind if I take the one in Venice?"  
"Of course not, but why?"  
"I just got this feeling..."  
Maureen looks at him. "In that case, I'll join Beta, too."

After they filmed the second video, a short one this time, probably to prevent further interruptions from his side, Ka-Bar - which is how Riggs named him thanks to the combat knife he's now closely acquaintanced with - is conversing quietly with a couple of other guys, apparently waiting for something. He already feels a little woozy from blood loss, but decides another try wouldn't hurt... much. So he yells over to them, "Hey, would you like some tips? You know, for future blackmailing? It'll greatly increase your credibility as a killer." Ka-Bar gets closer, looking both angry and wary.  
"The pose you had during your little video, the one where you held your knife to my throat, was completely wrong. I mean, it's none of my business, but people are just not going to take you seriously."  
"Is that right, sucker?" As predicted, fury makes Ka-Bar abandon all caution. He grabs Riggs' hair again to yank back his head and presses the knife against his throat. "That better?"  
"Well, that's your problem right there. See, when you stand like this, it makes it easy to-" He thrusts his head backward into Ka-Bar's sternum, who stumbles back, and rips his hand out of the cuffs - thankfully his hand is already slippery due to all the blood, so he doesn't lose too much skin on the process. And he has also prepared for this by dislocating his thumb while the gangsters left him alone in between videos. Before the gangster can recover Riggs jabs his elbow into the other guy's stomach and snatches the knife out of his loosening grasp to stab it in Ka-Bar's throat. He bends down and saws through to his bonds, which isn't easy with only four fingers working. The other gang members run towards them to help their now deceased leader and he throws the knife at the first one. The guy's head flies back as the blade buries itself in his eye. Riggs' other hand is still chained, but since they didn't take the precaution to bolt the chair to the floor, he just picks it up and slams it into the next Master Race member that tries to rush him. The chair shatters and the gangster goes down. Riggs kicks him in the head to make sure he stays that way. Then he evades the baseball bat the next goon swings at him, rips it out of his hands and hits him over the head with it. None of the gangsters are armed with guns - they probably didn't think it necessary in their own hideout - which makes them easy prey. Riggs feels the thrill of battle descending over him. He loves this feeling - the pain from his cuts and bruises fades to the background and leaves him with a razor-sharp clarity that make his opponents' movements seem pathetically slow.  
The last two gangsters circle him, both with knives in their hands. He throws the bat at one of them, who flinches and jumps back. Using the moment of distraction, Riggs turns to the other guy, blocks a knife slash with his arm and uses his other hand to pop him in the throat. Wheezing, the guy falls to his knees and Riggs finishes him by snapping his neck. Seeing this, the last guy drops his knife and flees, shouting for help. Riggs grabs the Model 9 still lying on the ground and gives chase.

Outside, Murtaugh has just started briefing the SWAT team as they hear shots ring out.  
"We've got shots fired! Going in now!"  
They storm the warehouse, surprising a group of Master Race members who are apparently just on their way out.  
"LAPD. Don't move!"  
Finding themselves surrounded by armed policemen, they quickly surrender. As the others are busy cuffing the gangsters, Murtaugh moves to the next door. The gunfire has ceased, so he cautiously pokes his head in. He sees a big open space with bodies lying around, most still clutching guns. _What the hell happened here?_ But he already has a suspicion, which is confirmed when he sees movement on a balcony overlooking the hall. Riggs is up there waving at him. "Hey, big guy! What are you doing here? Wait, I'll be right down." He hears stairs clattering, then the former SEAL rounds the corner and saunters up to him, a rifle propped up on his shoulder. He is covered in a fair amount of blood, but smiling happily.  
"So nice of you to pick me up. Did you get my message?"  
Murtaugh holsters his gun, exasperation warring with relief in his chest."If by message you mean the extortions videos, then yes, we got them." He claps his partner on the shoulder. "Come on, let's get out of here."


	3. Chapter 3

I just want to say thank you for your lovely reviews! And, to grishma 239: that's what this chapter and the next one are mostly about :)

Back outside Riggs stops, apparently surprised to see so many people gathered. The area around the warehouse is really swarming with cops – since it has become clear that this is the right place, reinforcements have arrived and even Avery is now here. Most are busy with securing the perimeter or transporting off the remaining Master Race members.  
"Wow, that's quite the party you have here. Have you all come just for me? I'm touched." Roger throws him a sideways glance. The younger man seems to be in pretty good shape – not to mention in a pretty good mood – despite the ordeal he's been through. Murtaugh can't imagine how he would feel after being drugged, abducted and beaten. As for Riggs – _he_ apparently feels hungry, since he's currently rubbing his stomach and looking pensively at a nearby burger joint. It's full of customers despite the late hour, all of whom are naturally staring at the scene in front of the warehouse. Having made up his mind, he starts to head determinately in that direction. Figuring that letting a man with a gun walk into a restaurant is not a good idea, Murtaugh grabs his arm to stop him. He quickly notices that haphazardly choosing the left one was not a good idea: Riggs flinches and lets out a small pained noise. At that, Murtaugh quickly lets go. Noticing a warm wetness on his hand he discovers that the blood covering the younger man is not dried like he assumed, but fresh. Swinging back from relief to full-on concern (with a quick stop at guilt for causing his partner pain), he puts a hand on Riggs' back and tries to shepherd him in the direction of his car.  
"Why don't you wait here, buddy, or maybe better sit down. The ambulance will get here soon."  
"Ambulance? I don't need an ambulance – what I need is a burger from over there. I hear they make the most amazing patties." Riggs looks at him like he's the unreasonable one and turns to go.  
Murtaugh tries again. "Hey, wait! You'll scare the customers if you go in there looking like an extra from a slasher movie! And you're still carrying that gun!" Riggs, undeterred, keeps strolling in the direction of the burger joint. Murtaugh lets out a frustrated breath. But since he figures the gangsters haven't given him anything to eat, he gives in and says, "If I send someone to get you a burger-"  
"With fries," Riggs interjects.  
"With fries, will you let yourself get checked out? Please?"  
Riggs turns around with a big teasing grin on his bloody face. "Oh Rog, you do care. That's so sweet of you." But he lets himself get led to the car where Murtaugh makes him sit on the hood, then grabs one of the milling police officers and places Riggs order. At that point, Avery notices them and starts to head over. Roger waves him off – he figures he needs to keep his full attention on his crazy partner because otherwise he'd probably still walk into that restaurant and cause a panic. The other cops, unusually sensitive, already give them space.  
While they wait for the ambulance – and Riggs' food – to arrive Roger looks at his battered partner. His left sleeve as well as one side of his face is completely red. His shirt is ripped in some places and a pair of handcuffs is dangling from one wrist.  
"Here. Those should fit" He hands him his handcuff keys.  
"Thanks." As Riggs unlocks them, Murtaugh notices that he's very carefully not moving his thumb – or maybe it isn't possible for him to move, as it seems to be stuck in a slightly awkward angle. He jerks his chin at it.  
"What's wrong with your thumb?"  
"I dislocated it," Riggs says – as if it's the most normal thing in the world.  
Despite his intentions to remain calm, after all, the man is hurt and probably even more out of his mind than usual, Murtaugh can't keep his voice from rising."You what? Why?"  
Riggs looks at him like he's stupid. "To get out of the cuffs, of course."  
"Of course..." Murtaugh mutters. He's relieved to hear the sound of approaching sirens, and even more so when he sees the first ambulance pull up. As he turns back to Riggs he just catches him popping his thumb back into place.  
"Man, don't do this! The medics are already here."  
Panting a little from the pain, Riggs nods. "I know. This will speed up the process."  
 _That man is impossible!_ Shaking his head, Murtaugh goes to signal the paramedics. At that moment, Maureen arrives with a take-out container in her hands and a worriedly skeptical look on her face. "Jones asked me to give this to you. Apparently you're hungry?"  
Riggs places the gun next to him on the car's hood and reaches out to take the food courteously off her. "Yes, I am! Thank you, Doc."  
She watches him unpack his food one handed, as there's obviously something wrong with the other arm, then turns to leave. She comes back with a bottle of water and hands it to him. "Here. Looks like you might need it."  
"That's very thoughtful of you." He smiles widely at here, looking like a particularly charming maniac.  
She smiles back at him with her head cocked to one side. "My, aren't we cheerful today? You know, we will talk about all this," she gestures at the chaos of cops and criminals, injured and dead and at him happily having his dinner in the middle of it, despite being injured himself, "on Monday."  
Riggs grins at her. "Wouldn't have it any other way."  
She pats his arm, then, seeing Murtaugh arriving with the paramedics, leaves to give them space.

Having gotten his food, Riggs lets the paramedics tend to him. Deciding that his partner is for the moment occupied and unlikely to cause chaos, Murtaugh heads over to Avery to give him a heads up on his condition. Both look over to where the paramedics patch up Riggs' various injuries while the man in question is munching on his burger, the rifle still lying next to him.  
"You won't let him keep his little souvenir, will you?"  
Avery lets out a surprised laugh. "You know, I actually might. After all, he saved us a lot of hassle and possible bad press." After a slight pause, Avery adds in a more serious tone. "I am very glad he is on our side. I mean, this man is a fucking force of nature."  
Murtaugh blinks at his captain's unexpected use of profanity, then huffs a laugh. "I know the feeling." He claps Avery on the back and heads over to his car where the paramedics are finishing up with Riggs.  
"So, what's the verdict? Will he live?" Roger asks. He is only half joking - seeing his partner covered almost head to toe in blood has really scared him.  
Riggs wags a finger at him "As if you're getting rid of me that easily, Rog."  
With an exasperated look, one of the paramedics pulls Murtaugh aside. "Maybe you can convince your partner. He is adamant about not going to the hospital, but he should really get checked in at least overnight – he has lost a considerable amount of blood and is also mildly dehydrated. Miraculously though, he doesn't appear to have a concussion despite the repeated blows to the head."  
Murtaugh can't help but crack a grin. "Yeah, he has a hard skull."  
The medic gives him a wry look. "I noticed. He has also refused being hooked up to an IV for fluid replacement and pain killers. We've done all we can on site, so we're finished – unless you can convince him to come with us."  
Murtaugh has to shake his head at that. Getting Riggs to go to the hospital against his will would be pretty much impossible ...unless he can get his hands on one of these tranq darts. But better not – he'd be tempted to use it whenever the younger man gets too annoying.  
"Okay then. But someone should keep an eye on him for the night and make sure he ingests lots of fluids."  
"I'll take care of it."  
The paramedics pack up their stuff and leave and Roger gets his first good look at his partner. The medics have cleaned up most of the blood, so he looks much better, but now he can see the full extent of the other man's injuries. There are black and blue bruises already forming on his chest and arms, fully visible now for the medics have cut away the remains of his shirt. His left arm is almost completely bandaged from wrist to shoulder and the cuts above his eyebrow and on his throat have been closed with butterfly bandages. Combined with the bruise on his cheek and the split lip it looks like he was on the losing end of a fight with a bull. Though if it'd be Riggs against a bull, he'd bet on his partner, who, being from Texas, could probably rope that beast in seconds. But maybe not right now – Riggs has lost that air of _isn't that fun?_ and is now looking pretty exhausted. He's also gotten rather pale and is shivering in the cool night air, probably from the combination of blood loss and adrenaline crash. It seems the events of the past 24 hours are finally catching up to him. It makes Murtaugh's paternal instinct kick in, so he takes off his jacket and hangs it over his partner's shoulders, like he'd do for his kids. Riggs shoots him a look and Roger just knows that he's about to say something about partners and mother hens, but he apparently decides against it. Instead he clutches the jacket tight around him and mutters, "Thank you."  
Roger smiles warmly and says, "Ready to go home?"  
Riggs nods and stands, swaying slightly. With Murtaugh's jacket that's a tad too big for him and the trembling, he looks much younger and uncharacteristically vulnerable. So much so that Roger that just wants to hug him. He hesitates, but gives in to this impulse and gently embraces his weary partner. Riggs first stiffens in surprise, then relaxes and pats him on the back with his good hand. But that is obviously one emotional display too much and does not go uncommented.  
"You alright there, Rog? Do I need to get you tissues?"  
Murtaugh abruptly releases him and points to his car. "Go get your skinny white butt in there before I change my mind."  
Riggs laughs, but grabs the rifle and does as he's told.


	4. Chapter 4

[Thanks again for your reviews! They make me absurdly happy :) To Dramamama5: There will be two more chapters after this.]

In the car, Murtaugh turns the heater on full blast. It has the desired effect – he can see the tremors subsiding and Riggs relaxing. Arriving at the Murtaugh house, Roger parks the car and looks over to his partner, who has been uncharacteristically quiet during the drive over. The reason for this is that he has fallen asleep, with the rifle hugged to his chest like a particularly deadly teddy bear. Biting back a smile, Roger reaches over to nudge him awake. Riggs grumbles without opening his eyes, "Quit it, I'm trying to sleep here."  
This time Murtaugh pokes him. "You can sleep inside. We're here."  
Groaning, the other man starts to get out of the car, but Roger stops him.  
"Leave that here." He points to the rifle Riggs still hasn't let go of. "You won't bring that gangster gun into my house."  
His partner seems affronted because Roger dared insult his precious gun. "It's not a gangster gun, it's an Atlanta Gunworks Model 9." He pats it fondly. "It's a really good gun."  
"Hate to tell you mate, but your relationships with weapons isn't exactly normal. Maybe you should talk to the Doc about it."  
"Rog, when you've been where I've been, you learn to appreciate a good gun. Besides, I already did. She says it's fine."  
Roger is skeptical at that, because _fine_ doesn't sound like the Doc, or like Riggs for the matter, but he decides to leave it be. "Well, okay, but leave it in the car."  
They are interrupted by Trish lightly knocking on the car window. She has apparently been waiting for them to arrive.  
"You okay in there?" Looking at their startled faces, she adds, "Or do you need a minute?"  
Both shake their hands and quickly get out of the car – or slowly, in Riggs' case. The short rest has only served to stiffen his abused muscles and bending forward to open the car door makes his bruised ribs ache. He must really make a sorry sight, because Trish immediately hugs him. "Oh Martin, I'm so glad you're alright." She breaks the embrace and holds him at arm's length, studying him. Taking in the bruises and bandages, she asks with concern in her voice, "You _are_ alright, aren't you?"  
Riggs smiles reassuringly at her. "Of course, it's nothing a bottle of Jack and some sleep won't fix."  
She tuts disapprovingly at him. "You know you shouldn't mix alcohol and pain medication." "Oh that's not a problem – he absolutely refused to take any," Roger butts in.  
"Why?"  
Riggs waves a hand dismissively "I don't need pain killers, I'm fine."  
She smiles, but her skeptically furrowed brow makes it clear she's not convinced."Sure you are. Well come on in, you two. It's cold outside."

Inside Trish orders Roger to "show Martin where he can sleep." Turning to Riggs, she asks, "Do you need anything? Something for the pain that's not a bottle of alcohol?"  
Riggs shakes his head. "Nah, I'm good. Thanks, though."  
"Okay, then I'll leave you boys to it. Good night, Martin – I'm really glad you're okay."  
Riggs smiles tiredly at her. "Night, Trish."  
Roger leads the way to the first floor hallway, Riggs following at a slower pace.  
"Where are we going? The couch was over there." He hooks a thumb over his shoulder. Seeing that they're headed toward the garage, he adds. "You want me to sleep in the garage? That's not very partner-ly of you."  
"Well, you'd deserve it for everything you put me through... but no. We can't have you always sleeping on the couch, so we made this." He opens the door next to the one that leads to the garage. It's a room that the Murtaughs formerly used for storage, now still a storage room, but with a bed shoved inside. Roger proudly shows him around. "Here's the bed, here ...a lot of stuff that we should clean out someday. Bath's right over there and you're welcome to anything in the fridge - not that I need to tell you that." After the expected sarcastic answer isn't forthcoming, he turns around to find Riggs standing awkwardly in the doorframe. Obviously uncomfortable with such an act of kindness, he clears his throat. Maybe because he's a little bit choked up, not that he'd ever admit to it. _If you asked him about it, he would probably say he has blood in his throat or something crass like that_.  
"You didn't have to do that for me."  
Roger smiles warmly at the younger man. "I know I didn't have to, but I want to."  
"Ah. And Trish is okay with that?"  
"Of course she is. She's the one who put me up to this," Murtaugh responds. Noticing Riggs has gotten even more pale/is practically swaying on the spot, he adds: "Now get in that bed before you fall over." Riggs of course, can't resist the opportunity to tease the other man, despite how grateful he feels: "Really, Rog. A gentleman would at least buy me dinner first." Murtaugh rolls his eyes. "If, hypothetically, that was what I meant, I think the multiple times you had dinner with us already cover that. Not to forget the burger I bought you earlier. So," he points, "Bed. Now. But get out of those filthy trousers first. I don't want you messing up the sheets."  
At that Riggs complies instantly, grinning suggestively at his partner as he opens his belt.  
"I didn't mean _right now_. God, you're impossible." Throwing his hands up in frustration, Roger storms out of the room, Riggs' laughter following him.

Arriving at his own bedroom, Roger quickly changes into his pajamas and slips under the covers to his wife. She turns around to face him. "You got him settled?"  
"Yeah. I think he was touched. Not that he'd ever show it."  
"Well, men and expressing emotions... Not like you're any better, the way you always gripe about him. But I know he cares about you and you about him. " She slides closer and puts her arms around her husband, laying her head on his chest. She looks up at him. "You're a good guy, Roger, you know that? It's one of the reasons I love you."  
He smiles smugly. "That, and my incredible sex appeal."  
She laughs. "Of course, baby." They fall silent. After a while he says quietly, "You know, they sent us theses extortion videos. I had to watch him get beaten and cut up, because he kept back talking them."  
"Oh baby, that's horrible!" She half straightens up and looks at him, her eyes fierce. "You made them pay for what they did to him, didn't you?"  
"I'd love to say I did, but when we got there Riggs had pretty much already taken care of them."  
"Well, that's alright, too." She lays back down.  
Hearing the shower starting downstairs, Roger mutters. "I hope he doesn't fall and crack his head open."  
Trish snuggles closer and shuts her eyes. "It's really cute how you worry, baby." She pats his chest and tries to reassure him, even though she knows it's probably useless. "But I'm sure he'll be fine."  
"Yeah, you're right."  
After a couple of minutes the shower stops. Just as she's about to drift off, Roger sighs and abruptly starts to get up. "I better check on him, I'll never get to sleep otherwise." Being proven right, Trish chuckles softly and releases him so he can climb out of bed.  
Downstairs, Roger lightly knocks on the door. "You still alive in there?" Riggs only grunts at him sleepily. Roger peeks in and sees that the younger man has in fact made it to the bed and didn't trip and die along the way. Seeing his own leather jacket hanging over the back of a chair, Roger grabs it to put it on the coat rack and, while he's there, takes Riggs' bloody and dirt-stained pants to put them in the washing machine. Then he makes sure the alarm system is turned on and checks on his children (though the teenagers have forbidden him to open their doors in the middle of the night " 'cause it's super creepy, dad!"). Satisfied that everything – and everyone – is where it should be, he heads back to bed.


	5. Chapter 5

[Thanks again, guys! I'm glad you like it.  
To 'Loved it': That's actually what happens, at least sort of, but it won't be anything exciting. These last two chapters just wrap things up and will consist mostly of fluff ;)]

In the morning, Murtaugh wakes up early to take his injured partner to his check up before breakfast. After getting dressed, he goes over to Riggs' room and knocks. There's no response, so he knocks again, then pushes the door open. He finds Riggs still sleeping soundly. He has his back to the door and is curled up on his side in the middle of the bed, covers pulled up almost over his head so that only his curly hair is visible. It's actually pretty adorable, and it makes Roger forget for a moment just how dangerous his partner is. So he reaches out to grab what he supposes is a shoulder and tries to gently shake him awake. Big mistake, as it turns out. Riggs immediately wakes up, whips around faster than Murtaugh can react and punches him in the face. With a surprised yelp Roger stumbles back a step and falls on his ass. When can open his eyes again, he finds Riggs sitting up in bed, squinting at him while simultaneously trying to disentangle himself from the blankets and push his hair out of his face.  
"I can't believe you punched me! I let you sleep in my house-" Roger was gearing himself up for a rant.  
Knowing that it was best if you interrupted him early, Riggs apologizes. "Sorry. You startled me." He smiles sheepishly, hoping it would appease the older man. Roger still looks miffed, but closes his mouth again. "And... I think we both agree we were lucky I didn't have my gun with me." At this, the glare returns full force until Roger looks down to see red blossoming on the large bandage on Riggs' upper arm, then the fury is replaced by worry. He must have pulled his stitches by wrenching around so fast.  
"You're bleeding."  
Riggs looks down. "Hm. Looks that way."  
"Well, we were heading to the hospital anyway, so get dressed."  
"Why?"  
"For your check up."  
Riggs waves that away dismissively. "I don't need a check up, I'm fine."  
"You ripped your stitches."  
"No prob, Rog. I can do my own stitches."  
"Why am I not surprised," Roger mutters under his breath. Then he thinks of something and says out loud: "Okay, but I will go to the hospital. And since you're the one who injured me, you will accompany me." He hands him his newly washed trousers. The bloodstains didn't wash out completely, but the material is dark, so they aren't too noticeable. And since he can't go out half naked, Roger presents him also with one of his button-down shirts. Though it's an old one, back from when Murtaugh had been a bit trimmer, it's probably still too big since Riggs is build rather lean. But he figures it's better this way, because it won't irritate the wounds. He compliments himself for being a very considerate friend, especially seeing that Riggs still looks pretty battered, or maybe even more so for the bruises have had time to fully form. As he starts to climb out of bed Roger notices something else, namely that the other man is dressed only in his boxers. Since he doesn't want a repeat performance from yesterday evening, he quickly retreats, calling over his shoulder, "We leave in ten minutes!"

Arriving at the Sacred Heart Hospital, the first thing Riggs notices is the smell of disinfectant and death that all hospitals seem to have in common. It brings back bad memories and almost makes him turn on his heel and leave. But he feels a bit guilty for hitting Roger, so instead he clenches the fist on his left arm - the one with the knife wounds and still sore thumb joint. The pain makes his head spin, but thankfully the memories recede to their usual place – far back in the dark, dark corners of his mind. Looking up he sees that his partner has stopped and is watching him with a worried expression, so he forces a smile on his face and hurries to close the distance.  
In the waiting room Roger is filling out forms since Riggs won't do it and doesn't even know they're here for him. The unwitting patient meanwhile is otherwise occupied – somehow he has found a swivel chair in the waiting room and is currently spinning round and round, to the amusement of the few other people in the room. Once Murtaugh has filled in everything he knows about his partner's medical history, which is next to nothing, he hands them back in. Grabbing a magazine, he returns to his seat he sees that his partner has stopped spinning and is now leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and eyes pressed tightly shut. "I think I'm gonna puke." Roger shakes his head in exasperation, but refrains from commenting and opens his magazine.  
The hospital is pretty quiet this early in the morning, so they don't have to wait long until a round, but rather fearsome looking nurse waddles up to them.  
"Hi, I'm Nurse Roberts. Detective Riggs?"  
Surprised, Riggs sits up straight. "Yes?"  
"This way please."  
Riggs glares at the other detective. "You said we were here for you!" he hisses.  
Roger, looking smug, answers: "I know I said that. But all I really need is an icepack."  
The nurse is getting a little impatient. "Follow me, detective." She turns around to lead the way. Both men start after her, or rather Murtaugh does. His partner, he realizes, is trying to sneak away. He shoots out an arm, grabs him by the scruff of the neck, which elicits a strangled yelp, and drags him back. Turning to the nurse who stopped as she notices their antics, Roger says: "You'll have to watch this one. He's a runner."  
The nurse smiles in a way that's slightly threatening. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I got this."  
He believes her wholeheartedly - she looks capable of wrestling Riggs to the ground if necessary. Nurse Roberts points at his eye. "You go get that ice pack you mentioned from the nurses' station on the second floor." She starts to usher her recalcitrant patient toward the examination rooms.  
Roger calls after them. "Okay, but I'll be right back. And don't forget to examine his left thumb. Because he dislocated it!" Riggs turns around to shoot him a glare, but the nurse shoos him on. Roger waits until they reach a room and the door closes, then goes to do as he's told. He returns 15 minutes later with an ice pack – and a cup of coffee because it's 7 am on a Saturday, when usually the whole family likes to sleep in – and settles in a chair to wait.

The coffee is long gone and the icepack melted when the door finally opens and a rather sulky Riggs emerges from the examination room. He's got a new accessory, a blue splint on his left hand and is being followed by a earnest young doctor in blue scrubs who seems to be lecturing him. Getting closer, Murtaugh catches the end of their one-sided conversation.  
"... absolutely no exertion and leave the splint on for at least a week."  
The doctor stops outside the room, still talking, but Riggs just keeps walking. Roger gives the perplexed doctor an apologetic wave and falls into step beside his partner. He is apparently still miffed for what he perceives as Roger's deceit, and doesn't acknowledge him. Trying to cheer him up, Roger says: "Let's go get breakfast – my treat." At the prospect of food, the younger man visibly perks up.  
"Eggs and bacon?", he asks hopefully.  
"For you maybe ...all I'll get is fruit and yoghurt."


	6. Chapter 6

[So, this is it, the last chapter. Thanks again to everyone who read and reviewed! And special thanks to Dramamama5 - your reviews were really a joy to read :)]

Breakfast is already being prepared when they return, with RJ on baby feeding duty while Riana sets the table. Trish is at the stove frying the eggs and bacon Riggs has been hoping for.  
Hearing the door open, she calls over her shoulder, "Good morning, you're right on time!"  
RJ looks up from where his little sister is currently making a mess of her breakfast, taking in the similar style shirts and matching black eyes – though with Riggs it's not just the eye and more like the whole half of his face. "That's cute. Were you going to take part in a lookalike contest?"  
Both men look each other up and down and see that RJ is right, so Riggs rolls up his sleeves and Roger unbuttons his shirt – because _he_ is wearing something under it like a civilized person.  
Eggs done, Trish puts the pan on the table. She turns to the men and notices with relief that, while still pretty battered, Riggs no longer looks like death warmed over. She hugs him and moves to kiss her husband, but does a double take. Her expression turns thunderous. "What is _that_ on your face?" She grabs his chin and tilts his head down so she can examine the bruise on his eye. "What were you two up to this time?"  
Roger tries to placate his wife."Nothing, we just had a little misunderstanding in the morning."  
Trish turns to Riggs. "You did this? I think we have to set up a new rule." She waves her index finger in his direction. "No punching of my husband ...unless he absolutely deserves it."  
Ignoring Roger's outraged "Hey!", Riggs tries to defend himself. "He startled me! I was asleep and he just grabbed my shoulder."  
"What, so you punch everyone who tries to wake you?" Roger butts in.  
"No, but I didn't hear you come in... I haven't slept this deeply since-" he breaks off and closes his eyes for a moment. S _ince Miranda was sleeping next to me_. Trish's expression instantly softens. She shares a look with Roger – it's nice to know that Riggs can relax around them, it means that they're clearly doing _something_ right.  
"Well, next time I'll just throw something at your head," Roger offers.  
Riggs purses his lips as he contemplates that, then decides, "Yeah, that might work."  
Trish shakes her head and laughs. "Come on, let's eat."  
Everyone digs in with good appetite, except for Roger who's complaining about his meager yoghurt breakfast.  
"Baby, you know you have to start eating healthier. Doctor's orders," his wife reminds him sternly. She turns to Riggs. "Speaking of doctors, what did they say at the hospital?"  
The man in question has been shoveling food into his mouth with his usual half-starved manner, slowed down only slightly by his hurt arm, and stops eating for a moment to answer, "That all should be fine in a couple of days."  
Trish doesn't seem convinced, but before she can inquire further, she's interrupted by RJ who asks with reluctant fascination, "So you really dislocated you own thumb? I didn't know one could do that."  
Riggs answers cheerfully around a mouthful of eggs, "You know, it's actually pretty easy – you just hold your thumb like this," he demonstrates with his good hand, "and smash it against a wall or something. Of course, as I was tied up, I didn't have that option, so I just used my foot. Took me a couple of tries, 'cause the angle wasn't really right, but in the end I got there," Riggs finishes, looking pleased with himself. Then he notices the whole Murtaugh family staring at him with identical horrified expressions – except for baby Harper who is happily messing around with her breakfast. "What? Not like I had any other choice."  
RJ recovers first. "That's rad, man!" He reaches over the table for a fist bump.  
Roger puts down his spoon. "You know, I still can't decide if that was impressive or just really stupid. Where did you learn that anyway?"  
"Oh, in SERE training." At their questioning looks he explains, "That's Survival, Evasion, Resistance and Escape. During the Escape part we had this old instructor who really knew his stuff. He taught us a few tricks, and he made us practice – a lot."  
While everyone is occupied processing this, Roger uses the opportunity to steal a piece of bacon off RJ's plate. But Trish notices it, of course.  
"Put that back. Now." She points her knife in a rather threatening manner.  
Seeing that the kids and Riggs get a good chuckle out of that, Roger tries to divert the attention by rather abruptly turning to his daughter. "Anyway, how's your project doing?"  
Riana groans at the reminder. It's for her English class and she's been partnered up with a girl who is apparently dumb as dirt.  
"It's so frustrating, she never gets anything. And I didn't even want to work with her!" she complains.  
Roger throws his partner a sardonic look. "I know the feeling."  
Mock-offended, the younger man squints back at him. "I hope you don't mean me."  
"As I matter of fact, I do. But I was also thinking about that really stupid car thief I arrested, back when I was still in uniform. He was so focused on cracking that car open, he didn't even notice me standing right behind him."  
"Yeah, I know the type." Apparently Riggs has experienced something similar in Texas and adds his own anecdote. Soon both get really excited, talking very fast and even finishing each others' sentences. The other Murtaughs watch this exchange with amusement, looking from one to the other like they're at a tennis match, until Riana can't take it anymore and bursts out laughing. "You two are adorable!" That stops them in their tracks.  
Unabashed, Riggs grins at the other man. "Told you!"  
Roger on the other hand tries to maintain his authority and waves an admonishing finger in his daughter's direction. "Don't disrespect your father, girl."  
"Sure, dad." Still grinning, she goes back to eating her eggs.

After breakfast they clear the table and Roger offers to drive Riggs over to his trailer. He gladly accepts. He really likes the Murtaughs, they make him feel like he's part of their family, but sometimes it just gets too much and he needs some alone time. And a couple of beers and a nap sounds good, too. He's still pretty beat and hurts pretty much all over. He won't admit that to Murtaugh, though. The guy is such a worrywart, he would make a fuss over him and he can't handle that right now. So he bites his lips to stop from groaning as they bounce over the uneven ground and pull up next to his trailer.  
Roger turns off the ignition and asks, "Wanna come over for dinner tonight? I'm making pasta à la Murtaugh. That's with salmon and cream."  
"Sounds pretty fancy. You absolutely sure you know how to make it? I don't want to get salmonella."  
"Judging from the contents of your fridge, you're most likely immune to it. That thing doesn't even work!"  
"Hey, it works perfectly – it keeps away the flies."  
"So, you coming?  
" 'course. Wouldn't miss it."  
Just as he's about to get out, turning to grab his rifle from the back seat, Murtaugh holds him back.  
"You sure you're alright, man? That was a pretty rough day yesterday."  
Riggs knows the other man isn't referring to his physical well-being. But yesterday's events haven't been traumatizing for him. He's not sure what that says about him, but he reckons not being bothered by something is actually a good thing, so he just answers honestly, "I'm fine, really. It was just another day at the ranch." Remembering something, he breaks into a grin and starts to intone, "Now some might call that heroic. But do you know what I call it?"  
Roger returns the grin – he thinks he knows where this is heading."Tuesday?" he offers.  
"Exactly."


End file.
